“She told me yesterday she had not had one for three months, adding that she was afraid it would play her a trick at last,” said the chevalier. “Ha! so you are married?” said Jacquelin to himself as he looked at Monsieur de Troisville, who was quietly sipping his coffee. The faithful servant espoused his mistress’s disappointment; he divined it, and he promptly carried away the liqueurs of Madame Amphoux, which were offered to a bachelor, and not to the husband of a Russian woman. All these details were noticed and laughed at. The Abbe de Sponde knew the object of Monsieur de Troisville’s journey; but, absent-minded as usual, he forgot it, not supposing that his niece could have the slightest interest in Monsieur de Troisville’s marriage. As for the viscount, preoccupied with the object of his journey, and, like many husbands, not eager to talk about his wife, he had had no occasion to say he was married; besides, he would naturally suppose that Mademoiselle Cormon knew it. Du Bousquier reappeared, and was questioned furiously. One of the six women came down soon after, and announced that Mademoiselle Cormon was much better, and that the doctor had come. She intended to stay in bed, as it was necessary to bleed her. The salon was now full. Mademoiselle Cormon’s absence allowed the ladies present to discuss the tragi-comic scene--embellished, extended, historified, embroidered, wreathed, colored, and adorned--which had just taken place, and which, on the morrow, was destined to occupy all Alencon. “That good Monsieur du Bousquier! how well he carried you!” said Josette to her mistress. “He was really pale at the sight of you; he loves you still.” That speech served as closure to this solemn and terrible evening. Throughout the morning of the next day every circumstance of the late comedy was known in the household of Alencon, and--let us say it to the shame of that town,--they caused inextinguishable laughter. But on that day Mademoiselle Cormon (much benefited by the bleeding) would have seemed sublime even to the boldest scoffers, had they witnessed the noble dignity, the splendid Christian resignation which influenced her as she gave her arm to her involuntary deceiver to go into breakfast. Cruel jesters! why could you not have seen her as she said to the viscount,-- “Madame de Troisville will have difficulty in finding a suitable house; do me the favor, monsieur, of accepting the use of mine during the time you are in search of yours.” “But, mademoiselle, I have two sons and two daughters; we should greatly inconvenience you.” “Pray do not refuse me,” she said earnestly. “I made you the same offer in the answer I wrote to your letter,” said the abbe; “but you did not receive it.” “What, uncle! then you knew--”